(closed) december catchall

[entreats]

Who: Ange (entreats), Chizuru (tealeafs), Daniel (miyagimagic) and various others.
What: December shenanigans.
When: During all of December.
Where: Locations vary.

Content Warnings: Bullying, (mild) violence, will edit to add more later.

( starters in the comments! if you want to plot anything with me, feel free to either pm the journal or contact me at queeningsquare, i'm always open to new ideas and threads! )

Comments

[possessum]

It's definitely not a hopeful answer, but that's exactly what makes it "easier" for Peter to swallow. Because hope... which always has the potential to be false hope, isn't how he functions, either. Even if Ange had assured him that she was sure she could handle that thing, his worry wouldn't have lessened. Not one ounce.

So this is still awful and terrifying and his stomach's a knotted mess of snakes, but Peter can exist in his fear. It's the only thing he can do. Nothing would allow him to overcome it, not in the face of something like this. And not when he's so desperately worried about his friend.

But the thing about Ange is—

'But I'll do it anyway.'

It reminds him of Luna when he's seen her in some of her more harrowing moments: not devoid of fear or doubt but stepping forward regardless. And Peter realises, as Ange steps closer to the creature, puts herself inbetween him and it, that he can't stay beside her (... at least, not as Peter). He has to let her do this.

It's the only choice.

He crouches down closer to the snow again, eyes impossibly wide and waiting, heart hammering away. And the display of magic from Ange is incredible to witness (as much as it's a bit scary.... and will probably become scarier; Peter, you haven't seen anything yet); he's locked on staring as those vines wrap around the ice monster, but the thing definitely isn't going down easily and is managing to tug itself loose with each passing second. With another scream of rage, the ice queen manipulated more ice to its will, this time in the form of razor sharp daggers, and it sends them hurling right at Ange.

[entreats]

She could move out of the way, she thinks, in the split second she sees that ice being hurled at her. But there's the worry of Peter getting the full attention if she were to turn into butterflies to try and dodge that, or leave him in the way of those daggers instead, which automatically makes it not an option for her. Ange cares for her friends so much more than for her own wellbeing, which means there's only one option here.

It's to keep standing.

And sure, the stakes she summoned before fly in her direction now, trying to block and redirect as many of the icy daggers as they can by just throwing themselves at them, but there's a bit too much ice. Some of it just hits the ground, or the walls nearby, but one of the daggers manages to lodge itself right into Ange's shoulder.

It makes Ange grunt at the impact, but to the girl's credit, she manages to not even wince otherwise.

"I'm fine," she mumbles, mostly hoping that Peter will catch it. Not wanting him to worry about her, despite knowing how bad this probably looks.

(It's fine, she thinks, she can heal it, she just-- she needs a little more power, especially if she wants to do that and hold this thing off at the same time--)

She keeps moving. Even as glittering darkblood spills down across Ange's clothes, landing down on the snow underneath her feet, her hand on the side of her good shoulder it already moving. It's rising, glowing gold like she's ready to cast yet another spell at the monster.

cw: some possession horror things...

[possessum]

Whatever this thing is, it's relentless. Peter watches in horror as Ange's own magical stakes manage to slow the frenzy of daggers down, but some still manage to break through.

And then one hits her. Stabs right in, sharp and quick.

It always feels like something surreal, to see someone he loves get hurt. Like he's in a dream, faraway, distant from himself. Peter's eyes widen and he can't feel anything for a long moment. He hears the mumble from Ange that she's fine, but she isn't, she's not, and he knows that, and he's giving soft gasp sounds as he watches her move, the familiar glittering leaving a trail in the snow.

"Ange... Ange..." He's whispering her name, quiet and useless and numb in his panic, heart pounding so hard he feels sick from it. He's been here before, too many times, ever since Charlie. What if Ange dies.

The thought of "people come back here" has never been a comfort to him. Maybe they do, but that doesn't make the thought of death, and pain, any easier. Peter's moving, very slowly, still feeling like he's in some dream fog. Trying to stand up.

Abruptly, he's falling back down again, right on his back. He barely has time to cry out before he's choked out of his own voice, his body's control wrenched away from him as something else starts forcing its way out. It works him strangely, back bending inwards, limbs twisting and bones giving a few pops and cracks; something like Paimon was never supposed to be confined to a human body, and for a few grotesque moments, that shows.

A deep and inhuman growl ripples from Peter's throat and then rises to something louder, a keening scream. His head snaps back up, pupils swollen to make his eyes appear almost pitch-black. They look furious as the demon jerks Peter's long limbs upwards again, standing upright: and without hesitating, sends a wave of fire right at the ice queen.

She screams, momentarily distracted enough by some of her surface ice melting, which gives Paimon time to move to Ange, quickly and without any sign of feeling pain from Peter's ankle.

"Golden Witch. I am here." His voice is strange, raw from the sudden and violent way he'd torn himself out of Peter, but there's concern there as he leans down closer to her shoulder, black eyes wide. Concern and anger; he's practically snarling the words. "You are hurt."

[entreats]

It's the sickening crunches that get Ange to look back. She knows she shouldn't, that this fight is too high-stakes - pun unintended - to risk letting her attention rest anywhere else, even just for a moment.

But she can't help it. This entire thing is about protecting Peter, after all, and for a moment Ange worries that the monster did something else, that she didn't notice since she was too distracted by the dull thrum of pain in her shoulder, echoing all throughout her every time she moves even just a little bit. Maybe that thing got to Peter, maybe he's hurt too--

But when she looks and sees his body contorting like that, Ange knows it's not the monster. It's still not a pretty sight, but at least Ange does know what this is. It's how she knows Peter should - hopefully - be alright, that it's just Paimon coming out, no matter what it looks like.

Her hunch is confirmed by the change in the other's eyes, that inhuman screech, and then the power being fired off at the monster. Ange isn't too sure how good of an idea it is for Paimon to walk on Peter's injured ankle - or what kind of consequences it'll have for the boy later - but it's not like she can protest it when the alternative for them in this situation is probably death. Maybe she can try to see if she can help heal it later, when she isn't busy being frantic deep down.

"I won't be anymore," she mutters back, "now you've distracted that thing."

It gives her just a few moments. Just enough for her to grab the icicle and pull it straight out of her shoulder. There's a pained sound coming from Ange as she does so, though she managed to tough it out a little bit better than most people would - the benefit of having a high pain tolerance through so much experience of pain.

She puts her hand on the wound, seeming to mumble to herself. "Come, try to remember, what kind of form did you have.."

It's a bit of a frantic mumble. Maybe because she doesn't expect the distraction to last long, or maybe because it hurts, but it seems to work all the same. Ange's hand glows with a golden magic, and the wound knits itself right back together, like there was nothing ever there in the first place. The only evidence of Ange's injury is the fact that there's still darkblood all over the place, glittering on the snow.

.. and the fact that Ange's eyes, too, have changed. Her own eyes seem almost monochrome too at this point, just like Paimon's own, though hers are a glowing golden rather than black. Pupils, irises - it's all disappeared into one big golden glow, without any defining features.

It's hard to tell if it's just because it's harder to tell any look in her eyes this way or if Ange really did calm down, but some of the frantic energy fades too. Like she's more confident, despite nothing about their situation having changed. Despite the monster still being there, looking like it is readying itself for the next attack.

"We must destroy it." And yet Ange is unconcerned, merely calmly stating that. She reaches a hand out - the same one she was holding on her wound, so it's still sticky with darkblood, sorry Paimon.. - and reaches out to cup the demon's cheek. There's something weirdly gentle and affectionate about it, yet definitely more forward than the girl usually would be with physical affection. Even though Ange knows this isn't her demon, knows it even as her mind feels like it's slipping further away from her, she knows Paimon is a friend.

"Be careful. I won't forgive that thing if it touches you."

(She won't forgive the monster either way.)

[possessum]

Paimon stands there, so intense in his concern for the girl. He may not be one of her demons from home, but he still has an important connection to the witch, being what the both of them are. A witch, a demon; there's a bond there that's only been growing over time.

And he will protect her fiercely, won't back down. He's tense as he watches Ange heal herself, inky gaze snapping back to the icy beast every few seconds to make sure it doesn't strike out at her again, but the distraction's holding for a bit longer. It won't last, though.

But he'll be ready. He can feel his own energy, power, swelling and sparking and flashing, white-hot. So many colours and lights and sounds, a cacophony. His host's body can barely conceal it.

Paimon's head turns to her as she reaches for his cheek with an affection, the demon staring widely into those glowing golden eyes. Being so close to her like this, he can feel her power too, and it fuels his own: his energy pulses against hers, tries to find it and connect. Combine. It's what he's meant to do, join with witches, assist, become greater together. She's protective of him too; her words make that clear, and it all simply strengthens the demon's surge of feeling for her. A being of reciprocation, both of Paimon's hands come up to frame the girl's face in response, gentle but intentional. The moment is theirs in the middle of everything, important.

"We will destroy it. Together. I am yours to command, Golden Witch."

She is the witch, and he will follow her orders. As he speaks and stares into the gold of her, his own eyes also spark up with a gold to match Ange's, the true colour of his own spirit within. Paimon turns his head to face the ice queen, eyes flashing dangerously. The flames he's sent have been countered now, managing to melt some of the ice but only on the surface. The thing's regaining itself, rising to her full height with a snarl of hatred directed to the both of them. Rearing up, she summons large, sharp shards of ice to push up under the ground, traveling at full speed in their direction.

[entreats]

Even though Ange can usually be a little more awkward about touch, there's nothing of the sort right here and now - somewhere between the way she touches the demon so easily, and the way she allows Paimon to hold her face in return without protest. It's not really about the touch itself, anyway. It's like a confirmation of the bond they share in the face of a challenge. Not a formal blood bond, like the ones so popular in this place, and not even any exclusive bond - but perhaps even just a bond of mutual respect for each other, or a connection shared as a witch and a demon belonging to the same element, confirmed by the same hue in their eyes.

"Get her," she simply says - commands, one might say, but there's nothing too strict in her tone. Ange knows that Paimon will follow what she says here, turning any request into an order by nature. "Go for her. Crush her."

Leaving the demon with those instructions, Ange turns into a cloud of golden butterflies, moving away and manifesting at a spot out of the way of the icy spikes the monster had sent out at them.

Not that she's leaving Paimon high and dry. No, the spikes that would hit him are smashed out of the way by golden spears rising up from the ground, crushing every bit of ice before it could even as much as touch the demon. More spears rise up to crush the ice in front of Paimon, leaving a path clear for the demon to rush at the monster.

[possessum]

He's grown so close with Ange, over time — and craves to grow closer still, drawn to her spirit the way only a thing like him can be. It feels natural to stand by her side, as equals. To be given direction by her, not in subjugation, but through that mutual respect. It's something that runs ancient, deep.

He moves as soon as she says the words. Fast, Peter's wounded ankle either not bothering him at all or the demon simply ignoring it. In truth, he really doesn't feel pain the way anything corporeal can; he may be locked within a human's body, but he still exists as something very much inhuman, inside.

And he works this human form the way he needs, stretches and molds it in some capacities. As much as he can, anyway. As he moves, he seems to lift off of the ground, something that could be considered flying — and within seconds, he feels and sees Ange at work, her spears rising to smash the shards of ice out of his way. He doesn't flinch, keeps going just as fast, trusting her with every ounce of his spirit.

Path cleared, he reaches the queen and dodges a swipe from her massive arm, though just barely; Peter's body is long and gets in the way. But he manages, thinking withing seconds — lifting an arm and propelling more flames right at her face. It isn't an inferno, no, it's methodical, the fire splitting into two, aimed straight for where her cold eyes rest in her head. Relentlessly he burns through, melting the ice of her eyes, forcing flames straight through her head.

It probably won't kill her, but it seems to hurt, for she screams, piercing the air with her wailing. Blinded now, her body's rocking back and forth, massive arms swinging, and Paimon chooses one to target next. Focusing his energy on it, the demon stops one arm telekinetically, keeping it held tightly in place, yanked away from the rest of her body. He can't do this for long, or else Peter might suffer damage, but for now he's all right, eyes flashing with the thrill. He keeps the ice queen's arm there like that, turns his head to look back in direction of those golden butterflies, clearly waiting for Ange — his turn to make a place for her to strike. If she aims her spears, her fury, at that arm, he's certain it could be blasted apart.

A thing like the ice queen probably can't be killed, but rather... destroyed. As Ange said, crushed. Piece by piece.

[entreats]

It was a good idea to send Paimon in to attack from a closer range, Ange thinks, as she sees the effects of the demon's attacks. The fact that he seems to command fire so well is especially a great help here. Not that Ange couldn't do the same thing if she so chose, but.. well, it certainly isn't her speciality, and she'd rather stick to what she knows well.

It's not like she's completely ignoring the danger here now, after all. And while she trusts Paimon's capabilities, she feels like it is her job as the witch here to make sure the demon isn't hurt.

.. and to pay attention to him. Which means that she sees the sign he's basically giving her here. It's clear as day what he intends for her to do when he forces the monster still like that, and Ange is quick to respond. With a quick wave of her hand more spears appear from the ground, drilling straight into the ice monster's arm.

It's only a few at first. Enough to take over the job of pinning the limb in place the way Paimon was holding it still, but not enough to crumble the arm just yet. But Ange steps closer to the creature, and with each step a new spear buries itself into the ice with a sickening crunch, causing the monster to shriek in both fury and - slowly increasing - terror.

"What?"

Ange huffs, her voice as cold as the ice the creature is formed out of as she continues to step closer, more spears emerging with every step, also drilling into the other arm now, basically slowly torturing the monster.

"Does it hurt now? Do you regret it now?"

She beckons with a hand, but it's not for the monster. It's aimed at Paimon instead, like she's silently asking the demon to return to her side. Ange doesn't even know where the limit is with Paimon using Peter's body before he strains it, but she feels like her own magic can take over the job of keeping the monster pinned there - propped up by the spears piercing it, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

"Maybe you should have thought about that before hurting someone I really care about."